


Beware of Lilies

by joyeusenoelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyeusenoelle/pseuds/joyeusenoelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred has a visitor, seventeen years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beware of Lilies

Out behind St. Catchpole's, in the town of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devonshire, was a little cemetery. It had commandeered a section of meadow about a hundred years earlier during the war, but it was getting stuffed again, even though none of the headstones seemed particularly new.

A man was sitting on the newest of the gravestones. His red hair could easily be mistaken for unkempt, although it was in fact studiously kept that way. He wore a grey suit that didn’t quite sit right with the eye, with a bright gold vest, a paisley shirt in lavender and white, and a tie that matched the suit jacket.

“Dad’s still out with the Ministry, you know,” he was saying, apparently to nobody in particular, “chasing down magic telephones and enchanted limousines. The faster their technology moves, the more opportunity there is for someone to witch it up. Last week he brought home a little robot to help Mum sweep the floor. Said it’d replace her broom. You know what she said?” He laughed. “’Arthur Weasley, if that … contraption so much as touches my floors it will be porridge for a month.’ And then she prodded him back outside with the end of that broomstick, you know the one. Of course, at his age, he’s already eating porridge for half his meals.”

He looked around, then continued. “Mum’s doing well, too. The grandkids keep her busy a lot of the time, and someone has to keep the Burrow clean. You wouldn’t believe how they’re growing up. The other day she caught Albus with one of my Cherry Jubilees — did I tell you about those? Little fireworks to scare the cat — and nearly had a fit. Had a Howler at my door. Customers loved it.”

“Ginny’s well, as you’d expect. Percy too. Bill and Fleur are vacationing in Thailand, and Charlie’s set up as Care of Magical Creatures professor at Durmstrang, can you believe it. At least his dragons are being put to good use, is all I can say.” He kicked his feet up on the next gravestone over and leaned back, hands behind his head. “The shop’s doing brisk business. End of year, everyone eager to get their last pranks in before the summer, or stock up for when they’re at home with parents or siblings who need tormenting. And of course my Sam is just fine, thanks for asking.”

He sighed as another family entered the cemetery, and kicked off again, landing on his feet in front of the gravestone. From his sleeve he produced a bunch of lilies. “Miss you, Fred,” he said, crouching to put the lilies on the ground in front of the stone. 

FREDERICK SEPTIMUS WEASLEY, it read. 1 APRIL 1978 — 2 MAY 1998. BELOVED SON AND BROTHER. Someone had taken the time to carve “GOTCHER!” in indelicate letters near the base of the stone.

George Weasley stood up and dusted his suit off, habitually. The other family paid him no mind as he walked off, but they certainly noticed as the lilies suddenly began to spark and hiss, sending tiny rockets a yard into the air that burst into brilliantly-colored depictions of Fred’s face. George could hear the gasps of the parents and the cheers of the children as the miniature fireworks went off.

He grinned.

And then he was gone.


End file.
